


Paper Cups

by china_shop



Category: White Collar
Genre: Fic, Gen, Sort of AU, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-29
Updated: 2010-08-29
Packaged: 2017-10-11 07:39:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/110021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/china_shop/pseuds/china_shop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal dipped his head. "What happens when the anklet comes off?"</p><p>(Ignores the end of season 1 and has a casting spoiler for season 2.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paper Cups

**Author's Note:**

> Many many thanks to dragonfly for beta.

Peter had given his speech and Cruz was handing around slices of her farewell cake, when Neal buttonholed Peter by Jones's desk and "clinked" paper cups with him. "Shame she's leaving."

"Yeah, she was doing good," said Peter. "But she wanted to move to the West Coast and Diana's coming back, so—" He shrugged. If you stayed with a unit long enough, you got used to people coming and going. A lot of probies and junior agents lasted less than a year in White Collar, with the long hours and the tedious searches through endless paper trails. It took a particular kind of mind to enjoy it, even now with Neal around to liven things up.

Neal perched on the desk next to where Peter was standing, and surveyed the party. He took another sip of faux champagne, and Peter could feel a question coming, but he just waited. Whatever it was, Neal would ask in his own good time.

Hughes came over and exchanged a few words, and when he went off to talk to Cruz, Neal was still there. Peter caught his eye and raised his eyebrows.

Neal dipped his head. "What happens when the anklet comes off?"

Ah. Neal wasn't really seeing Cruz's farewell party; he was envisaging another, future one. One with himself at the center.

Peter stifled his reaction, the swoop in his gut at the thought of losing Neal and going back to working unpartnered. He wouldn't be alone—there'd be Jones or his successor, and the rest of the team—but none of them were Neal. Still, the question wasn't about _him_. "What do you want to happen?"

Frustration flickered across Neal's face, quickly replaced with a broad smile. "Well, it'd be nice if you guys paid me properly, for starters. Plus benefits. Hey, do you get dental?"

"If you want to stay on when you've finished your parole, I'm sure we can work something out," said Peter. He leaned next to Neal on the desk and added, "I'd like that."

Which was an understatement really, but all he could allow himself. When Neal's grin turned genuine, he knew it was enough. That was what Neal had needed to hear.

Peter thought through the logistics. "Of course, if you want to be a real member of the team, you'll have to go to Quantico first."

"What?" Neal blinked. "No. Uh-huh." He inched away a little, as if he was scared of getting FBI cooties.

Peter raised his eyebrows again, using his leverage while he had it. "You want to stay with the Bureau, you have to be trained. I'll ask Hughes to get them to waive the background check."

"Aw, Peter. Come on." Neal almost pouted, staring down into his paper cup. Peter could see him weighing his options.

"It's only twenty weeks," said Peter. "And I'd be shocked and amazed if you didn't come top of your class."

Neal shrugged that aside. "How about if I stay a consultant? Could I do that?"

Peter wondered if Quantico was a deal breaker for him. To be fair, even if they could get him enrolled, it was hard to imagine Neal in a class full of fresh-faced recruits, and there was no doubt some of them, not to mention some of the instructors, would give him a hard time because of his history. And he'd be bored out of his mind and bound to get up to mischief. On the other hand, Peter would sleep better at nights if Neal had basic protocol drummed into his head and stopped hurling himself into the line of fire whenever the opportunity arose.

Of course, if that were the real issue, three years was a long time to wait. "I'll do you a deal," said Peter. "Diana and I will take you through the basics of agent training minus the firearms component, kind of a correspondence course, and when your parole is up, you can stay on as a consultant. A paid one."

Neal raised his chin. "Do other consultants have to—?"

"Other consultants don't get shot at as often as you do," interrupted Peter. "You seem to have a gift for it. Save me the stomach ulcer and do what I say, okay?"

Neal looked away, probably calculating whether to keep trying to bargain Peter down.

"That's my final offer," said Peter firmly, without much hope that Neal would take him at his word.

But Neal surprised him. "It's a deal." He held out his hand like they were forming a business partnership, which Peter supposed they were, in some sense.

Peter gave him a wry smile and shook his hand, appreciating the firm dry grip and, even more, the way the future seemed lighter all of a sudden; the three-year horizon that had been getting inexorably closer was gone.

The set of Neal's shoulders said pleased and satisfied too, and he took another mouthful from his paper cup and then held it up, empty. "You want another?"

Peter shook his head. "I'm driving."

Neal grinned, clapped him lightly on the shoulder and started with a spring in his step toward the knot of people by the table where the snacks and bottles of faux champagne were laid out, near the water cooler.

Peter watched him go with mixed feelings: glad he was staying, certainly, but troubled by his own persistent attraction to the man. He had to be so careful not to let it show, and he knew that sometimes he held back too much on the principle of "better safe than sorry." He was going to have to get over it, if they were to keep working together indefinitely. He could, he'd find a way. Maybe El would have some ideas. Peter sighed inwardly and turned his attention back to the party. This was Cruz's night. He went to find her, to say goodbye.

There'd be plenty of time to worry about Neal later.

 

END


End file.
